Stranger Than You Dreamt It
by I Can Dig Elvis
Summary: A disfigured musical genius, Castiel Novak, hidden away in the Lawrence Opera House, terrorizes the opera company for the unwitting benefit of a young protégé, Dean Winchester, whom he trains and loves. Based on The Phantom Of The Opera.
1. The Angel of Music

_Stranger Than You Dream It_

Based on The Phantom of The Opera

Artwork created by Artmetica on live journal.

_**Important: this chapter has been made longer and some parts have been changed, please reread to understand it better. Thank you for your patience.**_

**Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke as well as Warner Bros. Television and Productions. The plot of the story is taken from The Phantom Of the Opera which belongs to Gaston Leroux and Pierre Lafitte and Cie., Warner Bros, Andrew Lloyd Webber, etc.**

**WARNING: M/M relationships. If you are homophobic, please do not read and continue with your insignificant life. Thank you.**

**A/N: This story is based on the movie, things are not exactly accurate. Time period has been altered, the story begins in our current year and shifts to a flashback ten years ago, the theatre has been shut down. **

**Characters may seem OOC. **

**I assume, as part of the Supernatural fandom, you already know that Jensen Ackles possesses one of the most breathtakingly ethereal voices this human race could have ever had the luck to hear. **

_**Italics**_**: original dialogue/text from the play.**

…~)_D_*_C_(~…

**Summary:**

A disfigured musical genius, Castiel Novak, hidden away in the Lawrence Opera House, terrorizes the opera company for the unwitting benefit of a young protégé, Dean Winchester, whom he trains and loves.

**Rated M: **Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language. Can contain adult language, themes and suggestions. Detailed descriptions of physical interaction of sexual or violent nature.

**Pairings: **

Dean/Castiel

Sam/Gabriel

Crowley/Bobby

**Starring the cast of Supernatural:**

Castiel Novak …as… The Phantom

Dean Winchester …as… Christine Daaé

Sam Winchester …as…Sam Winchester

Gabriel Viscount of Chagny …as… Raoul Viscount of Chagny

Ellen Harvelle …as… Madame Giry

Crowley Giudicelli …as… Carlotta

Alan Roger Ackles …as… Firmin

Samuel Campbell …as… Andre

Bobby Singer …as… Piangi

Jo Harvelle …as… Meg Giry

Rufus Turner …as… Reyer

Gordon Walker …as… Buquet

Benny Lafitte …as… Lefevre

Balthazar …as… The Persian

**Other appearances:**

Meg Masters

Adam Milligan

John Winchester

…~)D*C(~…

"_Lot 666, then: a chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera: a mystery never fully explained. We are told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for the new electric light, so that we may get a hint of how it may look when reassembled. Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination, gentlemen?"_

_In sleep he sang to me in dreams he came _

_That voice which calls to me and speaks my name _

_And do I dream again? For now I find _

_The Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind _

_Sing once again with me our strange duet _

_My power over you grows stronger yet _

_And though you turn from me to glance behind _

_The Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind _

_Those who have seen your face draw back in fear _

_I am the mask you wear it's me they hear _

_My spirit and my voice in one combined _

_The Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind _

_Beware the Phantom of the Opera _

_Is that the Phantom of the Opera? _

The dust-filled and heavy cover dropped from the chandelier as the dimmed lights began to Illuminate the gloomy, dark, cold and ancient room as it gracefully rose finding its destination centred high above the magnificent theatre, the angels perched upon the pedestals kept silently their gaze on the beings moving about the ground. The dust in the air faded like a current of wind whispering as more and more movement began to appear upon the thousands of seats below, the walls shook as vibrant colours overtook the scenery, the angels in the ceiling once again smiled for they knew it was the rebirth of something blessed, something inexplicable yet most wonderful deed the heavens would bestow upon earth.

The commotion of anxiety, excitement and frustration travelled thickly in the ambient of the set as persons in assigned costumes rushed in and out of the changing rooms; the men running everywhere setting the stage, the smell of sweat, inexpensive liquor, grime, paint, wood varnish, roll-ups among other unpleasant odours filled the air making their heads dizzy as bodies pressed against one another to reach their needed positions. The maestro assembling his orchestra already exasperated with the disorder in the small space winced as he watched his instruments being handled uncaringly. The musicians gambled into the orchestra pit as a group of spear carriers eating a meal around a pot in their dressing room tossed food at the dogs waiting by the door making them chase each other for it down the corridor and crash through the half-open door; a sinister figure in overalls stood watching through a hole in the wall, Gordon Walker, the scene shifter, as the youngest ballet dancers changed into their costumes. He followed a few of them, including Madame Harvelle, the concierge, Johanna Harvelle, her daughter, Meg Masters, Dean Winchester and his brother Sam, they push past him to join the other dancers being drilled by Harvelle, also the severe ballet mistress, in the rehearsal studio, they are late which made the concierge glare at them. Outside of the theatre Gabriel, Viscount of Chagny arrives in his barouche. Crowley Giudicelli rehearsed in the set with Monsieur Robert, or Bobby, as the others still practiced their dance routines backstage.

Dean was a tall, brawny man with short, blond hair, his forest-green eyes and long lashes gave him a charm along with his soft and full, pink lips which made him one of the most attractive men in the city as well as the opera. He had a passion for music like no other having been influenced by his father, John Winchester, one of Hampshire's grandest violinists who had continued his career in America where Dean and Sam were born; their mother, Mary, had died when Sam was only an infant, saved his brother when their father was out of the city for a performance. Dean was only four yet a very intelligent child. The fire had 'mysteriously' ignited in the nursery where Mary sat by the window gazing at the stars holding Sam in her arms singing 'Hey Jude' as he closed his eyes to sleep. Dean had woken up that night from a nightmare, he climbed off his bed to find his mother and had found her on the floor in a pool of blood as the room filled with smoke, the furniture, curtains and walls set on fire, the glass from the window was broken and Sam cried in his cradle wrapped around blankets; he picked the child from the cradle before taking one last look at his mother as the fire reached her. And he ran, ran with the youngster in his arms until his feet could no longer carry him and dropped on his knees holding the shivering child in his arms. It was during the break of dawn when a couple, Bobby singer and Crowley Giudicelli, had found Dean with the infant wrapped in his pyjamas holding him close to his chest as he silently slept, they had taken both of the children as they waited for a parent to claim them.

After the death of Mary, John had proper neglected his children emotionally, obliging them to submit to his demanding regulations, teaching them the art of music; they learned to play almost every instrument John could play, mostly the violin and at a young age Dean discovered he had quite a talent, an angelic voice which John silently admired encouraging his son to develop it further.

"_When I am in heaven, Child, I will send the angel of music to you." _he would always remind Dean after the rehearsal.

At the age of sixteen, Dean Winchester was responsible for his twelve-year old brother, John had died of a heart attack and the hospital had tried in vain to revive him yet it seemed the heavens called upon him. Bobby Singer and Crowley Giudicelli had adopted the boys since the government had threatened to separate them which broke both men's hearts seeing Dean desperately cling to his brother as they took Sam away.

Crowley and Bobby were two of the most respected men among the music industry, tenors with true talents, they were a duet which made them quite successful. Crowley was an arrogant, sassy man yet cared for the ones he loved. Bobby had the heart of a father, fond of Dean and Sam as his own and he'd raised them practically in the opera house where later the boys developed an interest in dance.

"This way, gentlemen, this way. Rehearsals, as you see, are under way, for a new production of Chalumeau's _'Hannibal'_. Ladies and gentlemen, some of you may already, perhaps, have met Mr. Campbell and Mr. Ackles…" Benny Lafitte spoke introducing the two gentlemen to Rufus, the maestro.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lafitte, we are rehearsing. If you wouldn't mind waiting a moment?" he frowned glancing at the men and back at Crowley.

"My apologies, Rufus, proceed, proceed." he nodded.

"Thank you." Rufus nodded back, the rehearse continued.

"_Sad to return to find the land we love threatened once more by Rome's far-reaching grasp. Tomorrow, we shall break the chains of Rome. Tonight, rejoice - your army has come home." _Bobby continued rehearsing.

"Signor, Bobby Singer, one of our principal tenors. He does play so opposite Crowley Giudicelli." whispered Benny to Samuel and Ackles.

"Gentlemen, please! If you would kindly move to one side?" interrupted Ellen rolling her eyes at them.

"Sorry, Ellen." smiled Benny moving to aside along with the other two men, "Mrs. Harvelle, our ballet mistress. I don't mind confessing, Mr. Ackles, I won't be sorry to finally retire from all this…" he motioned with his hands to the theatre.

"I keep asking you, Lafitte, why exactly are you retiring?" Ackles asked knitting his brows as he kept his gaze on Benny.

"We are very proud of our excellent ballerinas and ballet dancers." he responded seeming pensive for a brief moment.

"Who is that girl, Lafitte?" asked Samuel pointing towards a blonde girl.

"Her? Johanna Beth Harvelle, Mrs. Harvelle's daughter. Promising dancer." he smiled smugly.

"Most promising." nodded Samuel in agreement.

"You! Dean Winchester! Concentrate, boy!" snapped Ellen at Dean who was distracted staring at Crowley quarrel with Rufus, he turned his head back to Ellen and apologised resuming to practice his part with Jo.

"Dean, what's wrong, hun?" asked Jo with a concerned tone.

"Uh, nothing." he blinked twice before putting a smile on his face.

"Winchester? Curious name." said Ackles staring at Dean.

"From Hampshire, England." spoke Benny also starring at the blond boy who clumsily dropped Jo seeming nervous from their gaze.

"Any relation to the violinist?" Samuel asked narrowing his eyes at Benny.

"His son, I believe. Always has his head in the clouds, I'm afraid. The other boy, the tallest in the room." he pointed at Sam, "Is his younger brother."

"Younger brother? Why, the boy's a moose!" chuckled Samuel with amusement in his eyes, Benny and Ackles laughed.

"Yes, he just turned twenty years old, Dean is four years older, I believe."

"_Bid welcome to Hannibal's guests -the elephants of Carthage! As guides on our conquering quests, Dido sends Hannibal's friends!_" the chorus interrupted the men's attention.

"Once more to my welcoming arms my love returns in splendour!" sang Crowley.

"Once more to those sweetest of charms my heart and soul surrender!" followed Bobby.

"The trumpeting elephants sound - hear, Romans, now and tremble! Hark to their step on the ground - hear the drums! Hannibal drums!" sang once again the chorus.

"Ladies and gentlemen - Mrs. Harvelle, thank you - may I have your attention, please?" interrupted Benny speaking loud which echoed throughout the room, the room quieted slowly, the dancers kept still and turned towards him, "_As you know, for some weeks there have been rumours of my Imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true and it is my pleasure to introduce to you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, _Mr. Alan Roger Ackles and Mr. Samuel Campbell." he pointed with both his hands towards the men who politely nodded at the crowd. "Gentlemen, Signor Crowley Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons now." he introduced Crowley as he approached the men proceeding to shake hands with them.

"Of course, of course. I have experienced all your greatest roles, Signor." Samuel spoke.

"And Signor Bobby Singer." Benny added.

"An honour, Signor." Ackles shook hands with Bobby. "It is an honour to meet you both. Signor Crowley is truly magnificent!"

"A diva!" joined Benny.

"yes, yes, yes, but no!" snapped Crowley seeming not pleased despite the compliments, "I've not my costume ready because someone did not finish it! And I HATE MY HAT!" he yelled making his voice echo through out the opera as he pointed a finger towards his ridiculously flamboyant hat. Benny, Samuel and Ackles glanced at each other then back at Crowley.

"I will not be singing! Andiamo tutti! Abbiamo finito, finito! Bye, bye!" he pushed through the bodies in his way motioning with his hands to his Italian maid, Italian seamstress, Bobby, Sam and Dean, "Tenor, tenor coming through! Move it, morons!" he yelled at Sam and Dean who stood in his way, Dean glared at him while Sam fixed a spiteful look on his face.

"Asshat." scoffed Dean as Crowley started walking away from the stage, luckily he did not hear what the boy had said, Sam smirked, surely they had a certain affection for the man yet they had their limits.

"If I remember rightly, Elissa has a rather fine aria in Act Three of _'Hannibal'_. I wonder, Signor, if, as a personal favour, you would oblige us with a private rendition? Unless, of course, Rufus objects…" Benny turned to Rufus with pleading eyes, Rufus sighed and nodded.

"My manager commands . . . Mr. Rufus?" Crowley looked at Rufus raising his eyebrows.

"My diva commands. Will two bars be sufficient introduction?" he turned to the other men.

"Two bars will be quite sufficient." nodded Ackles.

"Signor?" he fake smiled at Crowley.

"Maestro." Crowley nodded.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye ...Remember me, Every so often, Please promise me you'll try …" _Crowley sang rather awful in his tenor voice which made the cleaning crew over in the halls of the audience seats cover their ears with earplugs they often carried due to these situations. The crowd in the set was focused upon Crowley missing the mysterious shadow above the stage. _"On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me ...Think of me, think of me…_" he abruptly stopped as a heavy curtain fell upon him, he would later deny having squealed as he landed on the wooden floor with his face upon the cool boards.

"_The Phantom of the Opera! He's with us, he's a ghost ...He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!_" the cast ran in different directions away from the theatre babbling as others panicked. Dean, Sam and Jo stood still watching the crowd disperse. Ellen ran behind the stage and caught a glimpse of a shadow moving above, her eyes fixed upon an envelope falling from the balcony.

"Signor! Are you all right?" Benny ran towards Crowley helping to remove the heavy curtain off his back with the other two men. "Gordon! Where is Gordon? Get that man down here! Chief of the flies. He's responsible for this. Gordon! For God's sake, man, what's going on up there?" he yelled trying to find Gordon who appeared on the balcony moments later with a smirk on his face, apparently intoxicated with alcohol.

"_Please monsieur, don't look at me." _his words slurred slightly as he raised his hands in defence, "_As God's my witness, I was not at my post. Please monsieur, there's no one there: and if there is, well then, it must be a ghost_…" he chuckled resuming to pull the cords from the curtains as they rose back to their position.

"_He's there; the Phantom of the Opera …_" whispered Jo to Dean pointing towards the balcony. Dean fixed his eyes on the dark balcony where he saw nothing but the faint shadow moving away, it arose his curiosity yet dared not to think more of it.

"_Good heavens! Will you show a little courtesy?_" yelled Samuel at Gordon.

"Signor, please…" Ackles motioned to Crowley to sit down, Crowley breathed in and out attempting to calm down, with Bobby at his side.

"I'm alright, love." he turned to Bobby as he held his hand.

"These things do happen." said Samuel nervously smiling at Crowley who glared at him preparing to burst out in anger once again.

"Bollocks! These things do happen! For three years these things have happened and you have not stopped them! Well, until you stop these things happening, this thing does not happen! Bobby! Let's go!" he stormed out of the room.

"Idjits." said Bobby glaring at the three men then turned to leave.

"I don't think there is anything else I can help you with, gentlemen." Benny grinned as he turned to leave. "Good luck, if you need me I'll be as far away as possible. Purgatory if possible." he chuckled and left the two men. Ackles and Samuel sighed.

"Crowley will be back." sighed Ackles looking around the room.

"_You think so, gentlemen? I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost_." said Ellen walking towards Ackles and Samuel with a white envelope in her hands, it was sealed with red wax and a strange sigil not one of them recognised.

"_God in Heaven, you're all obsessed_!" said Ackles putting his hands up in frustration.

"_He merely welcomes you to his opera house and commands you to continue to leave Box Five empty for his use and reminds you that his salary is due." _she shrugged still holding the envelope in her hands.

"His salary?" Ackles frowned turning his head towards box five above the audience seats.

"Mr. Lafitte paid him twenty thousand dollars (approximately twelve thousand, four hundred and ninety pounds) a month. Hey, maybe you can afford more, with that rich boy, Vicomte de Chagny as your patron." she smirked.

"Madame, I had hoped to have made that announcement myself." glared Ackles at Ellen but she simply rolled her eyes at him.

"Is he going to be here tonight for the performance, Mr. Ackles?" she asked crossing her arms.

"Yes, in our box." he nodded.

"Madame, who is the understudy for this role?"

"There is no understudy, sir - the production is new." Rufus spoke for the first time after standing there watching all them without interest.

"Dean Winchester could sing it, sir!" Ellen interrupted turning to the young man standing next to Jo; he was pushed by the girl and he slowly stepped closer to the crowd.

"The clumsy boy?" Ackles frowned looking at Dean up and down.

"He's been taking lessons from a great teacher." she smiled and looked at Dean.

"From whom?" Samuel looked at Jo knitting his brows.

"I don't know, sir…" Dean shifted in his position awkwardly.

"Oh, not you as well! Can you believe it? A full house - and we have to cancel!" Ackles almost pulled his hair.

"Let him sing for you, sir. He has been well taught!" Ellen added with a small nod towards the men.

"From the beginning of the aria then, boy." Rufus smiled at Dean who looked around the room, Sam gave him two thumbs up and that was enough for the older boy to feel confidence.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me every so often -promise me you'll try._" Rufus played on the piano as Dean began to sing closing his eyes as he focused on the sound coming out of him.

"_Samuel, this is doing nothing to my nerves_!" whispered Ackles to the other man.

"Stop bitching." he replied which left Ackles with his mouth agape while Jo behind them giggled with Sam.

"_On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free, _

_if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me ...And though it's clear, _

_though it was always clear that this was never meant to be, _

He focused his eyes on the crowd feeling the nerves set in, his body trembled but he managed to keep standing for he remembered the voice in his head assuring him this could only be done by him. The lights on the stage were blinding and he could make a few faces from the audience and the boxes in the opera. A dark figure appeared in box number five yet Dean did not notice.

_if you happen to remember, stop and think of me ..._

_Think of August when the trees were green - _

_don't think about the ways things might have been ..._

_Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned. _

_Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind. _

_Think of me, please say you'll think of me, whatever else you choose to do -_

_There will never be a day when I won't think of you"_

"Can it be? Can it be Dean? Bravo! Bravo!" Gabriel stood up from his seat next to the managers and walked out of the box, heading downstairs to greet Dean first as he finished singing his piece. Sam stood behind Jo by the entrance hiding a blush yet feeling disappointed Gabriel took no notice of him. "Long ago, it seems so long ago, how young and innocent we were!"

"_Flowers fade, the fruits of Summer fade - they have their season, so do we ... But please promise me that sometimes, you will think ... ... of me!" _he held the note as long as he could before the instrumental music stopped. The crowd was silent before the royal hands began to clap followed by the cheering of the audience.

"_Yes, you did well. He will be pleased._" Ellen murmured under her breath that no one heard.

Behind the stage the dancers, stage workers, assistants, instrument players and among others interacted with each other; the room was loud with hundreds of different conversations. People descending or ascending the stairs, others running from place to place, others celebrating with cheap liquor or scotch while Jo and Gabriel made their way to the crowd in search for Dean who had disappeared after his performance.

He knelt on the cold floor as he lighted a candle in the opera house's chamber; the moonlight penetrated the stained glass hitting the wall and the scent of the room was of dust, wax and death. He sat in silence wishing John was there to see the man he had become, the success he had achieved, but he hoped from heaven he could take a glance at him.

"_Bravo, bravo, bravissimo." _a deep, soft and mysterious voice violated the silence; Dean turned his head glancing around the room to find its source yet it was empty.

"Dean? Dean, where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect." Jo quietly stepped into the chamber, proceeding to kneel next to Dean; the young man glanced at the girl with a small smile. "I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great tutor?" she furrowed her brows at him; Dean glanced at her, then back at the floor.

"Jo, when Bobby and Crowley brought me here to live, whenever I'd come down here alone to light a candle for my father, a voice from above and my dreams… he was always there. You see," he licked his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, "When my- my father lay dying he told me I'd be protected by an Angel-" he smiled as he stared at the floor yet looking distant, "An Angel of music." Jo stared at Dean with sad eyes as the man spoke.

"Dean? Do you believe?" he turned to her, "Do you think your father's ghost is coaching you?" he kept quiet for a moment, Jo placed her hand on top of his gently.

"Who else would it be?" Jo stared at the flame of the candle behind Dean wanting to answer yet having no valid response. "Father used to speak of an Angel, I used to dream he'd appear." he smiled gently, "Now as I sing I can sense him and I know he's here. Here in this room." he stood up glancing around the chamber, "He calls to me softly, somewhere inside hiding." Jo stood up glancing around the room as Dean did yet no one seemed to be there besides them and she felt no other presence. "Somehow I know he's always with me." Jo frowned slightly as the young man glanced around the room fascinated, "He the unseen genius."

"Dean, you must have been dreaming." she placed her hand on his shoulder pushing him towards the door; a small frown formed on his face as his feet carried him to the exit. "Stories like these can't come true." he turned his head to glance at the empty chamber one last time before turning to leave. "You are talking crazy and it's not like you."

"Angel of music." he repeated as they walked through the dark halls together.

"Dean, your hands are cold and your face is pale." she stopped her feet as she frowned in concern taking his hands into hers.

"He scares me sometimes." he glanced at the floor as the speed of his heart sped up.

"Hey, don't be scared." she pushed him gently to keep walking once again. A dark figure holding a bottle scotch and a smirk on his face stood above, listening to their conversation and he chuckled darkly as they disappeared into another room.

…~)D*C(~…

**End of chapter one.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	2. The Music of the Night

_Stranger Than You Dream It _

_Chapter II_

Based on The Phantom of The Opera

Artwork created by Artmetica on live journal.

**Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke as well as Warner Bros. Television and Productions. The plot of the story is taken from The Phantom Of the Opera which belongs to Gaston Leroux and Pierre Lafitte and Cie., Warner Bros, Andrew Lloyd Webber, etc.**

**WARNING: M/M relationships. Erotic scene but no sex. If you are homophobic, please do not read and continue with your insignificant life. Thank you.**

**A/N: This story is based on the movie, things are not exactly accurate. **

**Characters may seem OOC. **

**I assume, as part of the Supernatural fandom, you already know that Jensen Ackles possesses one of the most breathtakingly ethereal voices this human race could have ever had the luck to hear. **

_**Italics**_**: original dialogue/text from the play.**

.o0O)*(O0o.

Dean entered his dressing room quietly; the light was dimmed from one direction of the room; the smell of the roses and many other flowers from the bouquets that had been delivered to him radiated, travelling through the air around the room. His eyes focused upon a single red rose laying on the table, with a black, silk string tied into a bow on the stem; he frowned slightly as he gently retrieved the item to examine it, pulling the end of the string to undo the perfect bow.

"Ah, Vicomte!" Ackles called Gabriel as he pushed through the crowds; he stopped his feet, turning to the managers who seemed to be intoxicated with liquor. "I think we've made a discovery with Dean!" both men grinned widely. "Perhaps we can present him to you, dear Vicomte." Gabriel faked a smile.

"Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind, this is one visit I would prefer to do unaccompanied." he gave them a small nod before turning to leave. "Thank you." he retrieved the bouquet from Samuel's hands. Both men stood offended and astonished as they watched Gabriel disappeared in the direction of Dean's dressing room.

"I think they know each other, already." Samuel whispered to Ackles who simply snarled.

Dean rested his arms against the surface of the table as he watched the flame of the candle dance, he held the rose in his hands seeming pensive that he missed the sound of the door open and a soft voice call out his name.

"Dean-o!" Gabriel slammed the door breaking the trance Dean seemed to be in. "Dean?" he approached slowly with a smile upon his lips; he let the bouquet rest on the table at the side of the door.

"Uh, sorry." he blinked twice to clear his vision, for he only saw a dark sport radiating with light as the result of staring at the flame for too long.

"You seem more and more pensive these days." he knelt next to the younger man. "Want to share what you're thinking? Is it about me again? I know, I'm dreamy." he smirked playfully, yet Dean ignored it, glancing at the rose before turning to Gabriel; he licked his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue as he hesitated to speak.

"The- the Angel of music sings songs in my head." Gabriel focused on the soft expression on the young man's face as he spoke. "The Angel of music sings songs in my head." he repeated softly before he smiled. Gabriel pressed his lips into a thin line with a smile before wrapping his arms around Dean.

"You sang like an Angel tonight." he smiled; Dean rolled his eyes with amusement not seeming used to his gestures.

"No, it was the Angel of music. My father is dead and he visited me-"

"I'm sure he did. None of that now." Gabriel shook his head as he stood up, pulling Dean's hand with him. "Now we go to eat, I'm starving."

"Gabe," Dean pulled his hand back, "the Angel of music is very strict." a frown formed on his face as he stared at Gabriel, the other man tilted his head slightly staring at Dean with amusement and confusion.

"Well, I'm not keeping you up tonight." he shrugged slightly before turning to leave.

"Gabriel, no-" Dean stood to follow the man but the other had reached the door.

"Get changed, I'll be waiting in my car." he spoke one last time before closing the door behind him.

"Gabriel, wait!" Dean sighed as he stared at the door.

A dark figure approached the dressing room, being careful to not be seen by anyone left in the empty opera house; he reached quietly for the key in the lock of the door and turned it gently until a soft 'click' was heard, and removed the master key before disappearing. Ellen unfolded her arms from across her chest where she stood in a corner before turning off the lights of the opera house. Dean removed the white tuxedo jacket from his shoulders to place it on the hanger, suddenly the lights in the room dimmed until everything became darkness and the temperature lowered; he looked around and his breath sped up as his eyes adjusted to see in the lightless room.

"_Insolent boy! This slave of fashion basking in your glory!" _the voice of the Angel sounded in the room, making Dean flinch as he turned towards the door. _"Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" _he stopped his feet turning to glance around the room in attempt to find the Angel.

"_Angel! I hear you! Speak, I listen, stay by my side, guide me! Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me, enter at last, master!" _he responded singing softly.

"_Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide!" _the smile slowly disappeared from Dean's lips. "_Look at your face in the mirror, I am there, inside! _he turned his head slowly to face the mirror, seeing his reflection with the poor light of the moon that entered from the far-up, small window.

"_Angel of Music! Guide and guardian! Grant to me your glory! Angel of Music! Hide no longer! Come to me, strange Angel" _the more he kept his eyes on the reflection, the more entranced he became as his own disappeared and another figured formed slowly as he approached the mirror. His heart beat faster inside his chest, his hands trembled at his sides, the hairs on his body stood on end from the terror and excitement. At last he saw the one he for so long had waited to meet, the one no one had ever believed would come to his life; the Angel of music calling out to him.

"_I am your angel, come to me Angel of Music" _he was captivated by the being before his eyes, hidden by the shadows yet he could see the mask covering half his face, the eyes with command awaiting for him to approach.

"Whose is that voice? Who is that in there?" Gabriel kept turning the door handle in attempt to force the door open yet it was impossible.

"_I am your Angel of Music. Come to me Angel of Music!" _the Angel of music extended his hand for Dean to take, and the other gently placed it upon his without removing his eyes from the Angel's face; a small fascinated smile adorned his face and he could feel his heart beat faster and faster with each second that passed. The Angel pulled Dean closer to him as they turned towards the endless hall illuminated by hundreds of chandeliers being held by arms from the walls that raised them as both men passed by.

"_In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name." _he spoke in his head as his feet followed the mysterious Angel, his eyes not once moved from the other's face and he could see the cerulean eyes with such tender expression, it wondered him. _"And do I dream again, for now I find the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind." _he muttered quietly but loud enough for the other to hear, he turned to Dean, still holding his hand as they descended the spiral staircase into a secret exit of the opera house.

"_Sing once again with me our strange duet." _the phantom sang quietly as they approached a horse waiting for them outside; he did not release Dean's hand, instead helped him mount over the beast while he guided it to their next destination by foot. _"My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me to glance behind." _he raised his head penetrating with his soulful stare into Dean's soul, making the man shiver with sheer trepidation. _"The phantom of the opera is there, inside your mind." _

They stopped once they reached the end of the street under a bridge where a boat awaited for them. The phantom placed his hands gently on Dean's sides to help him demount the horse, for the man seemed terrified, confused and inert. They remained quiet for a while as they made their way through the waters, the stench of them filling their nostrils and it made him dizzy; chandeliers hand been placed throughout the tunnel lighting the way, and it made Dean wonder how all this was possible. Perhaps he dreamt once again, perhaps he had fallen asleep after Gabriel had left the room and he lay his head on the desk with deep sleep. It was a dream so vivid, he hoped to wake yet to stay for a little longer with his Angel of music.

"_Those who have seen your face draw back in fear, I am the mask you wear." _he interrupted the silence as he glanced around, the phantom turned to look at Dean with a stoic, yet determined expression.

"_It's me they hear." _he responded in a low and rough tone.

"_Your spirit and my voice."_

"_My spirit and your voice" they harmonized in a gentle melody._

"_In one combined; The Phantom of the Opera is there Inside your mind"_

"_my mind"_

The deeper they seemed to go into the tunnel, the lighter it seemed with many chandeliers along the way, and statues clinging to the walls all throughout until the entrance to a cave.

"_He's there, The Phantom of the Opera." _he whispered to himself so inaudible the phantom missed it._ "Beware The Phantom of the Opera" _he turned his head in every direction, glancing at every object that appeared as they passed. He hummed quietly to a song he had learned from the phantom, lost in his own thoughts, and admiring the carved symbols on the boat; a black and glossy skull reflected the yellow lights from the candles and it hit his eyes, making him squint. His heart rate had slowed down to its normal pace, yet the flutter in his stomach only escalated the more time he spent with the mysterious phantom._"Sing, my angel of music." _he heard the phantom whisper as he stared at him with fascination, the voice echoed throughout the cave as the bars rose from the entrance of the cave. There was something deep in his eyes that made him feel uneasy and naked, as if all his secrets had been laid upon a table for him to see, and _he _knew nothing of this being who had taken him away from the world he knew.

"_Sing for me! Sing my Angel!" _he spoke louder and louder, the voice bouncing on the walls and returning to their ears. Dean opened his mouth to sing the song of the phantom, his voice so confident and loud, it pleased the Angel and he smiled with awe.

"_I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne, to this kingdom where all must pay homage to music." _he set foot on the floor of the cave, proceeding to remove the cape from this shoulders and throw it aside. There were hundreds of papers with music written upon them displayed on various surfaces of the furniture, including a pipe organ. The cave gave a foul smell of burnt wax, dust, mould forming on the rocks from the water; Dean glanced around the cave in awe of the many things before he set his eyes on the phantom, who stood by the pipe organ with his back on the other man. _"You have come here, for one purpose, and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me, to serve me, to sing, for my music... __**my music**__." _Dean stared in awe as the phantom slowly approached him as if proud for his voice; a small smile formed on his lips, their eyes never once removed from each others.

"_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness wakes and it stirs imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defences, helpless to resist the notes I write, for I compose the music of the night." _his voice was rich, dark, passionate; it sent a thrilling shiver down Dean's spine. He was captivated and stood up slowly as the phantom extended his hand for him to take. "_Slowly, gently, Night unfurls it's Splendour. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender." _he pulled Dean closer and away from the boat; he removed his eyes from the phantom to glance around him, but the other placed his hand gently on his chin, proceeding to make him look into his eyes once again. _"Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold and feeling light, and listen to the music of the night." _he turned to the side as he passed, noticing replicas of the opera house, including the dancers, managers, Ellen, Jo, Sam, Gabriel and himself on the stage where he had performed a few hours previous in his white tuxedo suit. His chest heaved with anxiety, excitement and terror, not knowing if he trusted the mysterious stranger who said to be the phantom of the opera or his Angel of music._ "Close your Eyes –for your eyes will only tell the truth." _Dean let his eyelids slowly close as the Angel kept singing away from him._ "And the truth isn't what you want to see in the dark, it is easy to pretend that the truth is what it ought to be. Close your eyes - Start a journey through a strange new world Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before Close your eyes - And let music set you free." _

Dean began to step closer to the phantom, keeping silent as the other sang softly. He could hear his heart pound inside his chest until it hurt. The flames of the hundreds of candles reflected on the water, giving it a surreal glow as it hit the roof of the cave and the phantom's face, illuminating his irises and making his pupils contract. He let the tip of his tongue trail along the surface of his bottom lip as the Angel of music invaded his personal space, and he could feel the hot breath on his lips; his heart sped up even more, but the phantom stepped away, standing instead behind him.

"_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it secretly possess you." _Dean could feel the soft blow of air on his ear, making him shiver in odd delight and the hairs on his body stand on end. _"Open up your mind, Let your fantasies unwind In this Darkness which you know you cannot fight, the Darkness of the Music of the Night!" _Dean gasped softly at the sudden loss of heat as the phantom stepped away to walk behind the pipe organ, the shadows hid his face slightly and Dean turned around in search for him. "_Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be! Only then can you belong to me." _

"_Floating, falling, Sweet Intoxication Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation." _Dean's eyes widened as the words reached his ears, the thought of leaving Sam behind horrified him. The phantom stepped closer behind him, and he gasped as the hands touched the sides of his hips, slowly sliding up to his chest; one of the phantom's hand slid back to his waist, pulling his body tighter against the other; he could feel the heat of the other body transfer to his own, the hot breath on the side of his neck, and the intoxicating scent that was much erogenous for him. The hand that rested at the side of his body was suddenly grasped, entangling their fingers tightly; Dean let his head drop back as he closed his eyes, feeling the heat rise to his neck, down to his body and reaching his member. His hand was guided by the other to touch the phantom's jaw; his fingertips could feel the light stubble and soft skin. As fast as it happened, the phantom moved away, leaving Dean cold and confused, yet their hands were still intertwined as he pulled him towards the other side of the cave where a red, heavy curtain hung from the room to the floor. "_Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write, the power of the music of the Night!" _

He felt the horror strike him once again as he stared at himself, not a reflection, nor a phantasm, rather a replica of his own body made of wax; the exact same hue of his eyes, the skin tone and every freckle on his face. He could feel his head spin and his stomach sick with disgust. He removed his hand away from the phantom's as if it burned at the touch, slowly he stepped away not daring to look at the other man.

"You son of a bitch." he muttered with disgust, "You sick minded son of a bitch! You've been-" he glanced back and forth between the wax figure and the phantom. Anger rose inside of him at the sudden realisation, how many times had the phantom spied on him in his dressing room, or perhaps even Sam or the other girls at the showers, dressing rooms or practice. "You!" he clenched his fist, bringing it up to meet the phantom's jaw but the other avoided it, making Dean fall into his arms. "Don't touch me, you pervert!" he pushed himself away.

"Dean!" he tried to stop the man from moving away; his heart ached seeing the apparent disgust on the man's eyes. "You misunderstand me."

"Save it!" he clenched his jaw; his fists tightening at his sides. "Get away from me." he snarled as the phantom stepped closer, not stopping even as Dean spoke. "Get away from me!" he attempted to hurt the other man once again, succeeding yet failing as they both fell to the floor; Dean hit his head on a rock, falling unconscious next to his Angel of music.

"_You alone can make my song take flight, help me make the music of the night." _his voice tender like a lullaby sang to Dean as he carried him to the bed with red, silk sheets, placing him carefully upon it. He stood by the edge of the bed, his eyes glossy and his jaw radiating with pain, yet he did not care; he only hoped the aching in his chest would fade away.

…~)D*C(~…

**End of chapter two.**

**Thank you for reading.**


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